My Gift Is You
by AuroraSilverthorne
Summary: Based on the movie: When tragedy strikes the Stanton family, Will and his surviving siblings go to live with Ms. Greythorne.  Meanwhile, Merriman has doubts about his potential as a father.  Things only get worse when the Rider returns deadset on revenge.
1. Tragedy

**Disclaimer!: **_**I do not own The Seeker: The Dark is Rising or any of its characters. **_

_**This story was made purely for the enjoyment of the readers.**_

It was snowing when they got the call. George and Dawson were far too wrapped up in a game of chess to hear the shrill ring and Merriman was in the parlor stoking the fire when he heard the gentle creak of wood that signaled Ms. Greythorne's descent down the staircase. He left the fire poker next to the hearth and hurried out into the hall, but she glided past him and grabbed the receiver before he could stop her.

"Hello?"

The voice on the other end of the line was definitely female. Merriman could hear the sharp shrill squeak as the person started to babble.

"Gwen?" Ms. Greythorne had to pull the phone away from her ear. "Gwen, slow down. I can't understand you. What's happened?"

Merriman knew Gwen Stanton. She was Will's little sister and Will was The Seeker. Half a year ago they'd helped the fourteen year old defeat the Rider and had even had a hand in reuniting him with his long lost twin brother Tom. Needless to say, they'd become close friends of the Stanton clan ever since.

"What's happened Amelia?" Merriman asked as Ms. Greythorne hung up the phone.

"I'll explain on the way," she promised, "Please Merriman, bring the car around."

Merriman did as she asked. There was a harsh wind blowing when they left the manor. He had to drive slower than usual to avoid skidding over the ice that coated the road. Luckily, the Stantons didn't live far and they arrived with little to no trouble.

Mr. and Mrs. Stanton were dead. Their car had slid off the road, taking them and three of their sons over the edge of a steep cliff hidden by a snowdrift.

Their surviving children were all sitting on the sofa when they entered the house. Gwen cried out the moment she saw Ms. Greythorne, but the twins, Robin and Paul, were more reserved. Will was the first to approach The Old Ones. Merriman pretended not to notice the dark circles under the boy's eyes as he laid a hand on The Seeker's shoulder and led him to the edge of the room.

"Are you alright?" he asked.

Will's voice sounded strained when he spoke. "Social services called."

Merriman scowled, "Social services?"

"We don't have any living relatives who can take us in Merriman."

That much was true. Their eldest brother had died a week ago serving as a soldier in the U.S navy. With their parents and second eldest brother dead as well, there was no one left to take the remaining Stanton children in.

"They're going to separate us," Gwen cried.

Ms. Greythorne wrapped the child in a hug and kissed her on the forehead. "No one is going to separate you. I will not allow it."

"What are you going to do?" one of the twins asked.

Yes, what are you going to do?" Merriman wondered uneasily. He'd known Amelia for over a thousand years, and had a pretty good notion as to what she was thinking, but he wanted to hear the words said from her own mouth.

"Social services won't separate you if there is someone willing to take you in," she told the children.

"What part of 'we don't have any relatives'," the other twin persisted, Paul perhaps. Merriman had never been very apt at telling the two apart.

"That's just it," Ms. Greythorne explained, "The caretaker does not have to be a relative. Blood ties mean very little so long as the guardian can provide a financially, physically, and emotionally stable environment."

"But who would want to take us in?" Gwen sniffled.

Amelia gently wiped the girl's tears away with the back of her gloved hand. "Well…you could always come and live with me at Huntercombe Manor…"

"Really?" Gwen asked, a smile spreading across her pale, damp face.

"What?" both twins asked simultaneously.

Will was shocked beyond words. Mr. Dawson and George seemed just as surprised. Merriman wasn't. He'd expected as much. It was a selfless act of kindness if anything; though he sometimes worried Amelia's heart took precedence over her head.

"Can you…do that?" Will asked apprehensively.

"Do you want me to?" Ms. Greythorne answered with a question.

Will exchanged tentative looks with his siblings before turning back to the woman. George and Mr. Dawson looked at each other and then at Merriman who didn't say a word. He already knew Will's answer.


	2. Settling In

Huntercombe Manor was centuries old. Pictures, tapestries, figurines, carpentries, and other works of art from every era littered the walls and floor. The house itself was only two stories but what the outside lacked in charismatic charm, the inside made up for with spacious elegance.

It had taken some time for social services to finish filing the paperwork, but now that all the proper documents were in order, the four surviving Stantons had been free to pack up all their belongings and move everything over to the manor.

"This will be your room Gwen," Ms. Greythorne declared, setting a cardboard box down on the large canopy bed.

The room she'd chosen for the girl was airy and bright with sky blue walls and a large window seat. "I get my own bathroom?" Gwen asked upon discovering the attached lavatory.

"A growing girl needs her privacy," Ms. Greythorne replied, offering her a warm smile before releasing a restless sigh. "Well, I'll leave you alone to unpack. Merriman will bring some sandwiches and sweet tea up if you're hungry."

_They're always hungry_; Mrs. Stanton had told her once at a Christmas party. The memory of that conversation made Ms. Greythorne's heart ache so fervently she had to leave the room or she would've started to cry. _Gwen is already having enough trouble adjusting to life without her mother. She doesn't need me adding to her misery, _the Old One told herself as she blinked back tears.

""I know it's not much," Merriman remarked, "but I'm afraid it'll have to do."

Will's room was one of the eldest in the house, carefully decorated with rich reds and dark greens. The bed was the largest Will had ever seen and the stone fireplace only added to the rustic feel of the dark wooden floors and stoic wall hangings. Pictures of the boy's parents, siblings, and other family members lined the mantle in small frames.

"Who did this?" Will asked as he lifted one of the pictures for a closer look.

"Ms. Greythorne thought it best that you have a way to remember the good times you shared with your parents."

Merriman felt awkward discussing the subject. He knew what it was like to lose a loved one. He'd lived for little over a millennia after all, so the concept was nothing new to him. It was simply something he preferred not to talk about. Will was lost in his own thoughts and still holding the picture frame when Merriman cleared his throat. "Yes, well…I should see to your brothers. Shout if you need anything."

Will hardly noticed him go and for that Merriman was grateful. _Best to let the boy mourn in peace_, he decided. Death was a difficult thing and Merriman had never found it particularly easy to express his feelings to anyone.

Merriman was still trying to shake the feeling of apprehension when he happened upon Ms. Greythorne in the hall.

"Are George and Dawson finished bringing the twins' belongings up?" he asked.

Ms. Greythorne nodded, "The last time I saw them, they were busy watching Robin and Paul bicker over who would get the bigger room."

Luckily for everyone, Ms. Greythorne had foreseen such a quarrel and thus, provided each boy with an abode of the exact same size and shape, rectangular rooms decorated according to each boy's favorite color and hobby, and the bathroom that linked both rooms together had doubled sinks to ensure fewer squabbles.

"They seemed excited," Merriman noted.

"This will be the first time they've each had their own room," Ms. Greythorne replied, "It is a new experience for them, I think."

"And us," Merriman added anxiously.

"I'm used to dealing with warriors, not children," he admitted, lowering his gaze to the floor so their eyes wouldn't meet.

He had said something similar nearly a year ago. _I'm used to dealing with warriors, not boys_.

"You've grown fond of Will," Ms. Greythorne murmured, ringing her hands restlessly. "You'll get used to the others, I'm sure."

Merriman grabbed her hand so unexpectedly she jumped and a soft whimper escaped her lips. To Merriman's credit, he didn't let go. Instead, he entwined his fingers with hers and lifted her hand to his lips.

"We both will," he whispered, pressing his lips to the back of her hand.

Ms. Greythorne could feel the course hairs of his beard brush against the soft skin of her knuckle. The tickling sensation calmed her nerves and brought a smile to her lips. _I really should thank Will_, she thought to herself as she traced Merriman's jaw with the tips of her fingers.

During their fight against the Rider, the boy had come to Merriman needing someone to talk to, but Merriman had never been one to wear his emotions on his sleeve. Sharing and understand Will's need for reassurance had been even more difficult for him to comprehend, so much so that Will had been forced to express himself through the use of his powers which had resulted in the destruction of several trees, a windmill, and Ms. Greythorne's car. It had also caused a confrontation between Amelia and Merriman, one that had changed things between them.

_You are not without your own lessons to learn Merriman_, she'd told him. _He came to you. Not for more warnings. He needed you simply to listen._

Their argument had continued while Will and his sweet sister were busy fighting Vikings somewhere in the ancient past.

_At least Will knows how to express himself_, she'd shouted, _It's a pity your father never taught you how to do the same!_

But Merriman did know how to express himself, far better than she would have ever imagined. The kiss he'd given her that night had been so passionate, so fierce, so _possessive_, that it had left her too weak to stand. She'd wanted another, but Merriman had left to speak with Will after he'd returned with a sign and a new kitten for his sister. They'd shared several since, each more wonderful and exhilarating than the last, but as hard as they'd tried, neither of them seemed to have the courage needed to take their passion any further than a kiss.

"Hey, check this out!"

Merriman and Ms. Greythorne turned to see Robin twirling a mace. Paul laughed while Will shouted that the weapon was Merriman's and told his brother to put it down before someone got hurt. The older boy ignored The Seeker, but relented when Merriman snatched the spiked rod out his hand.

"This is not a toy," he growled, glaring daggers at the mischievous twins. "One misstep and an injury could be fatal."

For once in their lives the boys had the decency to appear ashamed.

"Robin didn't mean anything by it," Paul said apologetically, "We just thought it was cool, that's all."

"And you think that makes everything all right?" Merriman demanded hotly before turning on Dawson and George as they came around the corner. "They would've never gotten their hands on this if the two of you had been watching them."

"We're not kids," Paul argued, "We don't need a babysitter."

"This makes me believe otherwise," Merriman retorted, lifting the mace.

Ms. Greythorne went about it a gentler way. "What Merriman means to say, is that certain things are not meant to be played with. We know you were only trying to be humorous, but what if your antics had gone awry? One of you might've been hurt and then where would we be?"

"Sorry…" Robin murmured timidly.

"It's quite alright dear," Ms. Greythorne replied, touching the boy on the shoulder. "All is forgiven. Now, why don't we all go downstairs and have something to eat?"

"Race you," Paul said, turning to Robin.

"You're on!"

Both boys darted down the hall followed closely by their sister, George, and Mr. Dawson. Will waited until his siblings and the two Old Ones were out of sight before turning to Merriman. "Robin never should've touched your mace. I'm really sorry Merriman."

Ms. Greythorne saw Merriman's face soften. "It's not your fault Will. Like Ms. Greythorne said, all is forgiven."

Will smiled at him before one of his brothers, Robin probably, or was it Paul, shouted out asking where he'd disappeared to. _I'll never be able to tell them apart_, Merriman thought futilely as he watched The Seeker sprint down the stairs.

"Those boys are going to be the death of me," he declared, offering Ms. Greythorne his arm.

Mrs. Greythorne chuckled as she wrapped her arm around his and whispered, "Spoken like a true father." Merriman made sure they were alone before he pulled her close and kissed her passionately.

"We'd best get going," he whispered as his lips brushed her ear, "or they'll wonder what's happened to us."

Ms. Greythorne was so flustered she could barely manage a nod.


	3. Incidents and Outlets

The next few days proved to be more tedious than Ms. Greythorne could've ever imagined. Spring Break ended and school started again which meant more paperwork and a change of address so the school wouldn't have any questions as to where the children lived or who needed to be contacted if anything were to happen to any of them.

They weren't even a week into the semester when she received a call from the principal asking her to come up to the school for a parent-teacher conference concerning the twins. Come to find out, they'd started a food fight, resulting in the misplacement of a teacher's toupee.

In all honesty, Ms. Greythorne thought the man's hair piece resembled some poor creature that had faced off against a tire and lost, but even so, she'd scolded the twins for their transgressions during the ride back to the manor and ordered them to stay in their rooms until supper.

"You look exhausted," Merriman told her when supper was over and all the dishes were done.

"I am," she sighed, massaging her temples.

She could already feel the beginnings of a headache behind her eyes. "You think I should punish them, don't you?"

Merriman's face hardened. "What they did was uncalled for. If left unbridled, their behavior could escalate."

"They're so precocious," Ms. Greythorne murmured, "Why do they insist on acting in such a way?"

"They're boys," Merriman answered, "And teenagers. What more is there to say?"

Ms. Greythorne tapped her fingers on the arm of the recliner she was sitting in. "They're so vivacious. Perhaps an extracurricular activity might help, a sport of some kind?"

Merriman snorted, "The only sports you're like to get those two involved in are the ones they can play on their x-box."

Ms. Greythorne groaned. Being a mother was no easy task. She adored the Stanton children and would do anything for them. Still, Merriman was right. If left to their own devices the twins would only get into more trouble. Something had to be done. "I suppose I could take away their videogames for a while."

Merriman wasn't surprised. Amelia was soft spoken and kind natured. She didn't have it in her to spank a child, but that did not mean she wouldn't discipline one.

"It would give them more time to focus on their studies," he agreed.

The twins weren't happy when she and Merriman gathered up all of their games and locked their x-box in a drawer in the study, but they didn't argue. Ms. Greythorne eventually agreed to return their electronics, but only after they'd brought their grades up and joined an after school activity. Paul signed up for the computer club and Robin, much to Merriman's surprise, decided to join the swim team.

Will and Gwen also found new hobbies. It seemed The Seeker had a fondness for art while his sister wanted to learn how to play the violin. Ms. Greythorne made all the arrangements while Merriman chauffeured everyone back and forth each day.


	4. Playing Chicken

Merriman was not pleased when he answered the phone and heard Ms. Sampson's voice on the other end of the line. Apparently, Paul, Robin, Will, and Gwen had all gotten into trouble. The teacher didn't specify what they'd done. She just asked that someone come to the school to discuss their disciplinary problems.

He'd dropped Ms. Greythorne off in the village to do some shopping earlier. Not wanting to bother her because it was the only time she seemed to be getting to herself lately, Merriman decided to deal with the latest Stanton based catastrophe on his own.

The children were being held in a classroom on the first floor. When Merriman walked in, he wasn't surprised to see the teacher, Ms. Sampson seated behind her desk. She was an older woman, pudgy and stern faced, with a cloud of iron grey hair and a pink dress with tiny white poka-dots. In truth, Merriman thought she looked like a sow dressed in human clothing. When she trained her beady eyes on him and wrinkled her big nose he could understand why Gwen and the boys didn't like her.

"Are you Mr. Lyon?" she demanded without even trying to be polite.

"I am," he answered warily. He made sure to keep his expression neutral and his tone civil.

"These children are a disciplinary problem," she told him, motioning toward the Stantons who were all sitting around a circular table.

"What have they done now?" Merriman demanded, giving each of them a stern once over.

Robin and Paul were mischievous and energetic. Even with the help of extracurricular, getting in trouble at school from time to time was something he'd learned to expect from the twins, but Will and Gwen? This was a first. Ms. Greythorne was not going to be pleased.

"They decided to play sick so they wouldn't have to complete their Schoernburg-Heimlicans," the teacher said disdainfully.

Merriman furrowed his brow. "I'm sorry, the what?"

"Placement tests," Ms. Sampson elaborated."

"Oh." Merriman wasn't impressed. "May I have a moment with the children please?"

Ms. Sampson sighed, "If you must."

Merriman waited for her to step out of the room before turning to the children. Before he could get a word in Gwen said, "We aren't pretending. We really don't feel good Merriman."

"I think I have a fever," Will added gravely, pressing a hand to his forehead.

"And I've got these spots," Paul agreed, pulling up one of the sleeves on his shirt.

Merriman took one look at the red dots and turned back to Gwen. "Do you have them too?" When she showed him her arms there were red blotches all over them.

"We all have them," Robin told him.

"Good gods," Merriman breathed.

He could feel the rage boiling up inside of him as he yanked open the classroom door. "Ms. Sampson, would you come here for a moment please?"

"Has it escaped your attention that every last one of these children is covered from head to toe with chicken pox?" Merriman demanded, gently peeling back the sleeve on Gwen's shirt so the teacher could see the splotches.

"No…Well-yes but…"

"But _what_?" Merriman snapped, "These children are in dire need of medical attention and you have the audacity to stand here and smugly lecture me about the importance of placement tests? Tests, which were only invented to stiffen a child's creativity so that people like _you_ can enjoy a life based on what _they believe_, should be the norm?"

She started to speak but Merriman waved a dismissive hand at her and turned to the children. "Stantons, go out to the car." When they didn't get up, his voice rose to a loud boom. "Move!" All four children jumped up from their seat and made a beeline for the door.

When they were out of earshot Merriman turned back to Ms. Sampson, tossed his coat over his shoulder, and said, "My regards to Schoernburg and Heimlican."

An infant would've sensed the sarcasm in his voice. Much to her credit, Ms. Sampson stayed silent. Merriman walked out to the sound of the children singing his praised down the hall.

"That was awesome!" Robin was saying.

"Yeah," Will agreed.

"I don't even think Ms. Greythorne would've been brave enough to do that," Gwen chimed in.

They were half way across the school parking lot when Will stopped. "Oh man, I left my math book in my locker."

"Hurry up and get it," Merriman ordered, "I need to call Ms. Greythorne and let her know I'm taking you all to the doctor."

Will darted up onto the sidewalk. He could hear Paul complaining about the itching as he hurried toward the doors.

"Well, that's what happens when you catch the chicken pox," Merriman replied matter-of-factly.

The ivory walls of the school appeared grey in the dim florescent lighting. Will found his locker and immediately began sifting through the stack of textbooks. He'd just pulled his Pre-Algebra book out from the bottom of the pile when:

"That was quite an outburst wouldn't you say?"

The hair on the back of Will's neck stood up. He knew that voice. When he turned there was a man standing behind him with shoulder length dark hair and even darker eyes.

The Rider smiled, "Hello Will."

"You…" Will's locker door swung shut of its own accord. The boy tried to take a step back but there was nowhere for him to go. "You can't be…I defeated you!"

"Haven't those old fools taught you anything?" The Rider asked, "You can't have light without darkness Will. We're a part of each other. You may have defeated me, but you can never destroy me."

The lights began to flicker. Will watched The Rider draw his sword from its sheath.

"What do you want?" he demanded unable to keep the fear from his voice. "I don't have the sings anymore!"

"Oh, I don't want the signs," The Rider replied in a calm voice.

Will knew what was coming next. He squeezed his eyes shut as The Rider lifted his blade to strike. A firm hand grabbed the ruthless man's wrist and jerked the sword away. Will's eyes snapped open. He saw Merriman throw the sword to the floor. The metallic clangor they heard when the weapon hit the hard stone echoed off the walls.

Will shifted his gaze from one man to the other. His siblings were all standing in the doorway, wide-eyed and open mouthed.

"I told you once already to leave the boy alone," Merriman growled, tightening his grip on The Rider's wrist.

"Merriman?"

The three Stanton children immediately made way and Ms. Greythorne appeared in the sunlit doorway. Merriman saw the look of utter shock cross her face when her gaze fell on The Rider. He released The Rider's wrist and yanked Will out of the monster's reach. "Let's go."

Will didn't argue. Merriman led him down the hall and out the doors into the bright light of day. They were almost to the car when he put a firm hand on Will's shoulder and lowered his voice. "Are you alright?" The boy nodded but Merriman could feel the chill of Will's skin through the fabric of his shirt. The Seeker's hands were shaking. He gave the fourteen year old's shoulder a gentle squeeze. "Let's go home."

"So The Rider has returned…"

Mr. Dawson let the words sink in. He and George had sensed something was amiss earlier that day. They'd made their way over to Huntercombe the moment they'd gotten the call from Merriman.

"We have to tell the children," Ms. Greythorne said anxiously.

She was sitting on the divan with a blanket draped across her lap. Merriman had made her a cup of hot tea. She took a sip of the brew. It tasted strongly of herbs and honey.

"Amelia-"

"I will not keep the truth from them Merriman," she snapped, "Not when their lives are in danger."

"She's right," George murmured, "They need to know what they're up against."

Merriman bowed his head and released a heavy sigh. He'd known from the beginning he'd lose this argument. "What do you want me to do?"

"Gather the children," Ms. Greythorne ordered, setting the teacup down on the table as she stood up. "The time has come for them to meet the others."


	5. Queens, Fairies, and Grandfather Time

"What is this place?" Paul asked.

All of the Stantons seemed to be in awe of The Great Hall, even Will, who'd been there at least three times already.

"You needn't be afraid," Ms. Greythorne declared, hugging Gwen when the girl wrapped an arm around her waist. "This is a safe place."

"And an old one," George added, motioning to the weapons lining one of the walls.

"This is The Great Hall," Merriman explained, "Our power is strongest here. No one may enter without our invitation."

"Our?" The scrunched up look on Robin's face made the attractive young boy look rather unpleasant. "Exactly who are you guys?"

"We are The Old Ones," Ms. Greythorne answered.

"In truth we're neither old nor young," Mr. Dawson murmured.

"We are the Guardians of the Light," Ms. Greythorne continued, pausing to give the old farmer a stern look for interrupting. "When Will turned fourteen he too became a Guardian of Light. He is The Seeker, the last trueborn immortal."

"Or so we thought," Merriman remarked, "until the rest of you came along."

Will frowned, "But Merriman, you said-"

"I know what I said," Merriman snapped, pausing to regain control of his emotions.

Their encounter with The Rider had flailed his nerves. He needed time to recoup. Unfortunately, time was something they didn't have. The Dark's return meant another battle, only this time; it wouldn't just be Will and his four guardians. The entire council wanted to ensure The Dark never rose again.

A brilliant gold light began to shine through the clefts in the huge doors that led into The Great Hall.

"It's time," Merriman told them.

"Merriman, guard The Seeker," Ms. Greythorne ordered softly.

She took Gwen's hand and pulled the girl closer. George moved to stand beside Robin. Mr. Dawson did the same with Paul. That left Merriman and Will. The Old One put a firm hand on The Seeker's shoulder without taking his eyes off the doors. When they opened, the light was so bright, Will and his brothers had no choice but to shield their eyes while Gwen buried her face in the soft fabric of Ms. Greythorne's long fur lined coat.

The light eventually faded to reveal four cloaked figures. Merriman let his gaze slip from one stranger to the other.

"Who are they Merriman?" Will whispered.

"Old Ones."

"You mean there are others like you?"

Merriman didn't get a chance to answer. The cloaked figures began to walk toward them at a slow almost languid pace. Each velvet cloak was a different color: one was white as snow; another rose red, one as black as night, and the last, the one at the forefront of the assembly, was royal blue. Merriman and Ms. Greythorne spared a glance at one another before moving forward to meet them.

The person wearing the royal blue cloak pulled back the hood. He was an older man, probably the same age as Merriman, with amber eyes and ginger red hair sprinkled with grey that matched his close cut beard.

"You always did know how to make an entrance," Ms. Greythorne said with a smile.

"It's good to see you too Amelia," the man replied, placing a soft kiss on her hand before turning to Merriman. "Merry!"

Merriman grasped the man's wrist in a show of brotherly affection. "Arty!"

Laughter filled The Great Hall. The other three strangers pulled back their hoods. Will was surprised to see that two of them were women. The woman wearing the rose red cloak was just a bit younger than the man, Arty. She was a lot shorter than him though, with shoulder length auburn waves and dark blue eyes. The other woman, the one in the snow white cloak, proved to be the real surprise. She looked as if she were in her mid or late twenties. The waist length ringlets of spun silver that were her hair had been pulled back into a jeweled beret. She regarded Will with wary emerald green eyes.

"So…you are The Seeker?" she asked.

Will nodded.

The woman didn't seem very impressed.

The stranger in the black cloak turned out to be a boy with the same silver hair and emerald eyes. He looked younger than Will, ten, eleven maybe, which should've been impossible.

Will grabbed Merriman's arm and tugged him back a few steps so the newcomers wouldn't hear them. "I thought you said I was the last of you to be born."

"You are," Merriman answered.

"Then explain that," Will hissed, jerking a thumb toward the little boy.

"What? You mean Mordrid? Will, he only looks like that because his mother put a spell on him."

"A spell?"

Merriman nodded.

Will did not like the sound of that. What kind of mother used magic on her children to keep them from becoming adults? Before he had a chance to ask, the man with red hair came up to them and asked, "And who is this fine young fellow?"

Merriman placed a hand on Will's back and gave him a gentle shove. "Arty, meet, Will Stanton. Will, this is Arthur Pendragon."

"Arthur Pendragon?" Will's eyes widened. "As in, Arthur Pendragon, King of Camelot?"

"That's me," the man with the royal blue cloak replied, "Or it was the last time I checked."

All three Stanton boys let loose with a whoop, crowding around the king, each asking at least a thousand questions at once. Merriman seemed rather perturbed as he tried to reign them in. Arthur merely laughed and did his best to answer what questions he could make out between all the shouts of "Dude, this is so awesome!" and "Oh man! I can't believe it! King Arthur? _The_ King Arthur!"

Gwen seemed just as star struck by the ladies. Come to find out, the petite lady with the auburn hair was Lady Guinevere, Arthur's wife. The tall slender woman with the white cloak turned out to be their goddaughter, Morgaine, and the little boy, her son Mordrid.

"Mommy," he asked, tugging on her sleeve while pointing a finger at Will. "Is he The Seeker?"

"That remains to be seen," the woman replied in a tone as cold as ice. She narrowed her eyes at Will. "What proof do we have that he is in fact the warrior the blacksmith promised?"

_She's talking about my ancestor_, Will realized, _Thom, the one who created the signs_.

"Mordrid should've been The Seeker," Morgaine snapped, "Not this…this…lout."

"Now that is quite enough," Ms. Greythorne said, putting herself between Will and the other woman. "Will is a good boy, and whether you like it or not Morgaine, fate chose him to be The Seeker. Nothing you say or do will ever change that."

"We'll see about that," Morgaine hissed.

Her cloak seemed to flow around her as she whirled on her heel and started for the doors. "Mordrid, come!"

"But mom-"

"_I said_ _come_!"

The boy began to follow his mother, pausing only once to look back at The Seeker. _He wants to stay_. Will could see it in the boy's eyes. There was sadness hidden in those pale green depths, sadness, and something else. Will didn't know what.

He felt an arm around his shoulders and looked up to see Arthur. The man gave him an apologetic smile. "You'll have to forgive Morgaine. She's still a little sore that her son wasn't the chosen child. She'll get over it though, I'm sure. Give her time."

Will wasn't too sure about that. "She seemed pretty angry."

Arty shrugged off his concerns and turned to the other Stantons. "Are they are?"

"Will's siblings," Ms. Greythorne replied, motioning to the twins. "This is Paul and Robin."

Merriman frowned. _How in the world does she tell them apart?_

"And this is Gwen," she added, resting her hands on the girl's shoulders.

Arty nodded at each of the boys and smiled at Gwen. "Please to meet you all, though I wish our introductions could've come under better circumstances. I sense a shift in time's natural order. What's happened Merry?"

Merriman had never cared much for the nickname Arthur had given him as a boy, but they had more important things to worry about at the moment. "The Rider has returned Arty."

"Again?" Arty scowled, "How many times must we defeat him before he learns his lesson?"

"Evil never learns," Ms. Greythorne remarked, "Nor does it ever die. The Rider does not worry me as much as his purpose. Will no longer holds the signs, so why has he come back?"

"He came after The Seeker at the school did he not?" Guinevere asked brusquely.

Will was astonished. "How did you know that?"

"My wife possesses the gift of secondsight," Arty explained.

"He probably means to take revenge on the boy," Guinevere continued, "You'd do well to send him and the other children away, somewhere safe."

"Huntercombe is safe," Ms. Greythorne replied sternly.

Guinevere's words had obviously hit a sore spot. Merriman knew how badly Amelia wanted to protect the children, but sending them away? _She'll nail her tongue to the breakfast table before she lets that happen_. Ms. Greythorne's maternal instincts had grown tenfold since the Stantons had come to live with them at the manor. Taking the children from her would be harder than fighting an entire army of Riders. _She's not the only one_. The realization that he truly cared for these children was unfamiliar and difficult to swallow. Granted, the twins tested his resolve every chance they were given, Will's need for a father figure proved inconvenient most days, and Gwen's clingy nature grated on his nerves at times, yet they were still dear to him.

"Parting with the children is out of the question," he announced, "Their place is here, at Huntercombe, with us."

Mr. Dawson folded his arms over his chest and grunted his agreement. George ruffled Robin's hair and said, "Hear that lad? You're stuck with us now."

Ms. Greythorne's lips curved up into a half smile.

Arthur seemed confused. "Why call us here then if not to protect the children?"

"We don't need you to protect them, Arthur," Ms. Greythorne replied.

"You don't?"

"No. We need you to help us _teach_ them."

"Teach us what?" Will asked, turning to Merriman for an answer.


	6. Admissions

"The Great Hall is made up of several corridors, each leading to this atrium," Merriman explained, motioning to the fountain and the rest of the large room they referred to as The Great Hall.

Will had only been in the one room. He'd had no idea that the stairways on either side led anywhere. Now that Merriman and the other Old Ones had given them a full tour of their sanctuary, he'd seen not only the Great Room, but several others.

The "Corridors" Merriman was referring to were actually two long halls with several doors on either side. Every door appeared similar in shape, size, and color, but each led somewhere different. Some led to average places like a park in the town where they lived, but others, like the one Ms. Greythorne had opened led to places like Camelot or Avalon. When they were through with the tour, Merriman ushered them back into The Great Room and over to the fountain where they descended the stairs into a large room where Will saw swords, bows and arrows, maces, flails, polearms, battle axes, billhooks, and countless other weapons lining the walls.

"What is this place?" Paul asked.

"The Hall of Weapons," Mr. Dawson answered, spreading his arms for effect.

"We've brought you here so that you may choose your virtuoso," Lady Guinevere added, motioning to the weapons on the wall in front of them. "Every warrior of light, every Old One, has a weapon. My husband wields a sword, Merriman a mace. It is our birthright, and yours. Will, you are The Seeker. Your siblings are the future Old Ones. Today, you will each claim your rightful place as servants of the light, but be warned…it is the weapon that chooses its wielder, not the other way around."

"Who's first?" Arthur asked cheerfully.

Will hesitated.

"I am the eldest now," Paul said matter-of-factly. "I guess that makes me first."

"By two minutes," Robin exclaimed.

Arthur stepped to one side so Paul―who ignored Robin's protest―could ascend the stairs to stand on the empty stone platform at the center of the room.

"Uh…how exactly does this work?"

"Focus," Merriman ordered, "Instead of seeing with your eyes, let your intuition guide you. Your heart will tell you which weapon to choose."

"Once you've chosen," Ms. Greythorne added, "The weapon will forever carry the essence of your soul. You need only call out and it will come to you regardless of where or when you are."

"Hurry up Paul," Robin urged. "I want to choose my weapon next!"

Paul ignored his brother's outburst as he skimmed the stone walls. At first, he felt nothing for the steel, iron, and wood surrounding him on all sides, so he closed his eyes. Merriman's words filed his head. _Focus. Your heart will tell you…_ All at once he felt a burst of warmth in his chest. It was a surprisingly pleasant feeling, reminding him of a flame lit on a cold winter night. The warmth spread throughout his body. He lifted his hand pointing at something on the wall to his far right. Will and the others followed his finger to a warhammer with an iron head and wooden handle.

"That one!"

The warhammer wrenched itself free and came flying at the Stanton boy. Will was almost certain Paul wouldn't catch it in time to avoid being conked on the head, but the boy reached out and caught the hammer without so much as a blink. Paul descended the stairs grinning like a Cheshire cat.

"Your turn, Robin."

Robin wasted no time. He took his twin brother's place on the dais. Minutes later, he felt a rush of awareness so potent, he immediately zeroed in on a halberd with a steel blade and black iron handle resting near the bottom of the wall to his left. Robin pointed at the halberd and said, "This one's mine."

Will knew which weapon he wanted before he ever reached the dais: the black longbow with the horsehair drawstring. Just seeing it made him feel as if he were reuniting with an old friend after years of separation. Will raised his arm and the longbow flew right into his hand. "Whoa…"

"Your turn sweetheart," Ms. Greythorne whispered.

Gwen looked up at the dais. Then back at Ms. Greythorne. "I…don't know…"

"You can do it Gwen," Will urged, "Just close your eyes and listen to what your heart tells you."

Gwen took a deep breath and started up the stairs. _I can do this…I know I can._ She stopped near the edge of the dais and glanced up at the weapons. _There are so many…_ One in particular stood out, a shortsword with a silver blade and a rose gold hilt wrapped in soft white leather. The entire weapon pulsed like the accelerated beat of a heart. Gwen pointed at the sword. "You're the one." The sword freed itself from its perch at the center of the wall directly in front of her. Gwen caught it as it fell and lifted it so the others could see.

"Did I do it right?" she asked.

Will smiled up at his sister. "You did great."

"Well done," Arthur agreed.

"She'll be training with me," Ms. Greythorne declared, watching with pride as Gwen descended the stairs.

"Practice makes perfect," Arthur reminded them. "Best to begin training them as soon as possible."

"I've nothing else to do for the day," George shrugged, "Why not start now?"

Guinevere nodded. "George has the right of it. Gwen, you will train with Amelia and Arthur. Dawson and George will mentor the twins. Will, with me. Merriman will stand sentinel to be certain we're not bothered."

"Yes, ma'am," Will murmured, looking from Merriman to the queen and back again.

Merriman didn't particularly care for the way Guinevere ordered him about. He was used to Ms. Greythorne telling him what to do, but that was partly because of his ever-growing fondness for her. Arthur's wife might have been his friend, but that did not entitle her to order him around, a fact he wasn't afraid to address, especially under the circumstances. "No, Guinevere. I will mentor The Seeker along with you. Will knows little enough of our ways and I'm certain he'd feel more comfortable if someone he's already familiar with were to stand watch while he learns his archery."

Guinevere seemed somewhat surprised that he'd spoken up, yet she made no attempt to argue with him. Instead, she inclined her head and said, "If that is what you think is best, so be it."

They broke into the allotted teams and began setting things up in The Great Hall. George and Dawson ushered the twins over to one corner where they began drills on how to properly hold their weapons. Ms. Greythorne preferred a simpler approach, first teaching Gwen how to call her weapon to her, then proceeding with how to properly hold a sword. Once that was done, Arthur followed her lead with simple maneuvers like the Perry, Left, Right, and defensive moves like blocking and guarding.

Will was watching his siblings when he felt a tap on his right shoulder. When he turned, he saw a target resting against the wall. Guinevere motioned toward the target and then lifted a longbow with rough white leather wrapped around the grip. Will wasn't even sure how she'd gotten the longbow. He hadn't seen her take it down off the wall. _It must be her weapon_, he decided. She'd probably summoned it via soul bond while he wasn't paying any attention.

"The key to archery is relaxing your bow arm without getting lazy," she told him.

Will watched her pull back the arrow. When she released it, the bolt went whistling through the air, hitting a bull's-eye. "Now you try." Will took aim, loosed the arrow. It flew past the target and bounced off the wall before landing on the floor.

"Man," he groaned.

"Focus," Guinevere snapped, "Do it again."

He accidently loosed the arrow before turning toward the target. It flew across the room, grazing Mr. Dawson's ear before hitting the wall. Will dropped the bow. "Sorry! I didn't mean to, I swear!"

"It's alright," Mr. Dawson called back; rubbing his earlobe with his thumb and forefinger. "Just a flesh wound, that's all."

They kept training throughout the rest of the day. With each hour that passed, Guinevere pushed Will, and continued to push him, her harsh commands grating on Merriman's ears until he just couldn't take anymore. "That's enough, Guinevere! Can't you see the boy is exhausted?" He motioned to the others. "They all are." Robin and Paul slid to the floor where they leaned back to back panting like two dehydrated pups. Little Gwen let her sword fall so she could lean against Ms. Greythorne who welcomed her with open arms and a soft whisper of reassurance. Will swayed on his feet, sweat beading his brow.

Guinevere sighed, "Fine, let them rest, but their training will continue first thing in the morning. We can't risk The Rider gaining the upper hand."

"We'll meet here at dawn," Arthur decided. He smiled at Gwen. "Until tomorrow, little dove. Amelia."

Ms. Greythorne bowed her head. "Goodnight Arthur."

The king took his wife's hand and led her through the doors they'd used when entering the Great Hall earlier that day and they both disappeared in a wave of blinding light.

Ms. Greythorne shook her head and asked, "Who's hungry?"

"Will and I will clean up and meet you back at the manor," Merriman told her.

Much to his surprise—and everyone else's—she walked over and pecked him on the cheek. "Be careful."

"I will," he promised, turning to Will. "_We_ will."

After everyone else left, Will threw down his bow and kicked it across the floor.

"Something wrong?" Merriman asked wryly.

"I can't even hit the target," Will replied, sitting down to rest on one of the steps to the left of the fountain. "How am I supposed to defeat The Rider?"

Merriman released a heavy sigh. "Will…it's your first day. You shouldn't be so hard on yourself. I know Guinevere is a difficult teacher, but she is a good person, and an Old One. If she's being hard on you, it's only because she wants you to succeed…and so do I."

"You don't think I'm a failure?"

Merriman lowered himself down next to Will. "You know…I was just like you when I was a boy."

"Yeah right."

"It's true. It took me a long time to master my chosen weapon. Years. I remember, George, Arthur, and Dawson used to laugh at me because, sometimes when I'd throw the mace, I'd lose my grip, and it would fly across the training yard. My father used to yell and stomp his feet. He even threatened to geld me if I didn't work harder. Of course, Ms. Greythorne wouldn't hear any of it. She used to get right in his face, jab the point of her canesword against his throat, and threaten to slit him from naval to nose if he harmed me."

"Ms. Greythorne?" Will grinned, "No way!"

"I'm serious," Merriman persisted, "Amelia wasn't always so soft spoken and sweet, you know. She was quite a fireball in her youth."

Several moments passed before Will lifted his head. "You really like her, don't you?"

"She is my dearest friend," Merriman replied.

"But you love her," Will added, refusing to let the subject go.

Merriman lowered his head letting several moments come and go before he answered, "Yes, Will, I love her."

"So why don't you tell her?"

"It's not that simple, Will. Amelia and I, we're Old Ones. Certain things are expected of us. Falling in love isn't just inconvenient; it's fatal, especially when you're trying to keep the world from falling into complete and utter darkness. Falling in love with a fellow Old One? It's the worst thing someone in my position could possibly do."

Will frowned. "I don't understand."

Merriman stood up and began pacing the floor. "When we first became Old Ones, Ms. Greythorne and I took vows, we'd put the rest of the world before our own wants and needs. As servants of the light, we aren't free to live normal lives, not like your parents. We live and die defending all that is good without ever asking anything in return. That is our lot in life. Granted, it doesn't help that Amelia is of noble birth and I am nothing more than a penniless boy born into a family who has served her ancestors for over a millennia."

"Why should any of that matter?" Will got to his feet. "You're Merriman Lyon, an Old One, and a servant of the light! Besides, Ms. Greythorne loves you, I know she does. Yeah, you guys fight and argue sometimes, but it's obvious you really care about each other. Why shouldn't you be together?"

"There are certain rules that have to be followed, Will. You'll understand when you get older," Merriman told him no longer wanting to discuss the subject. "Now, help me with these spears. The twins must've knocked them over while they were training with Dawson and George."

"You'll regret it," Will said, gathering up as many spears as he could.

"What?" Merriman demanded.

"If anything ever happens to Ms. Greythorne," Will finished, "You'll regret not telling her how you really feel. They always do."

"Who?"

"People who fall in love."

Merriman shook off Will's warning. "Do hurry. Ms. Greythorne will be worried if we're not back at the manor before sundown."


	7. Enemy Mine

They met at sundown. Him atop his white steed, her on foot. Neither spoke, each listening to the soft trickle of turquoise rivulets slipping slowly over pebbles beneath their feet. They always met here. Ms. Greythorne's powers might've kept the manor beyond their reach, but not the bridge. The Rider regarded his attaché, an older woman, pudgy and stern faced, with a cloud of iron grey hair and a pink dress with tiny white poka-dots.

"I handed that boy to you on a silver platter," she said bitterly, "and you couldn't even dispose of him"

"If you're going to chastise me," he replied coolly, "at least do it in a form pleasing to the eye."

Crystalline lights surrounded the beady-eyed wench, a cloud of colors reminiscent of the aurora borealis, transforming her. Morgaine pulled back the hood of her white cloak. Her silver hair glowed in the retreating daylight making her emerald eyes sparkle. Her son, Mordrid, poked his head out from behind her skirts.

"You were supposed to keep the old man busy while I dispatched the little whelp," he growled, glaring daggers at mother and child.

"Do not blame me for your shortcomings," she snapped back, jabbing a finger in his direction. "You should've killed Merriman the moment you gained the upper hand during your last encounter with the Stanton brat. Instead, you lost his twin, and got yourself imprisoned in a snow globe. Keep in mind, Dark One, without me you'd still be locked away in that crystal ball, so hold your tongue."

Silence hung between them for a short time before The Rider finally asked, "What now?"

"Arthur and Guinevere have returned to Camelot," Morgaine explained, "Without them, the Old Ones are not at full strength. Keep Pendragon and his wife at bay long enough for me to dispatch the other Old Ones and Will Stanton won't stand a chance against us."

"You mean to destroy The Seeker and his Old Ones?" The Rider snorted.

"I know their weaknesses," Morgaine persisted, "Family means everything. Amelia's heart bleeds for those children. Why else would she take them in? Merriman loves her, so he tolerates them. Dawson and George are too loyal for their own good. Where Lyon and Greythorne go, they'll follow."

"Get to the point," The Rider growled.

"A mother's first instinct is to protect her child. Take the Stantons away from her, and Amelia will do anything to get them back. Merriman will undoubtedly follow with George and Dawson at his heels. We can eliminate them one by one. The others will be forced to watch their loved ones die, thus, darkness will consume their hearts forever extinguishing the light. After all, it is as you said, you cannot have one without the other, lest there is no balance."

"And how exactly do you propose to do this?" The Rider asked somewhat intrigued.

"You just focus on delaying Arthur and Guinevere. I'll deal with the rest," she assured him.

"So be it."

The Rider kicked his horse into a swift run through the trees before disappearing in a cloud of grey mist. Morgaine watched him go. _Fool. He doesn't have a chance against my uncle. Guinevere's second sight will be his undoing_. And once The Rider was gone, all of his powers would belong to her. "Come along Mordrid. Mommy has work to do."


End file.
